


Hidden

by kayxpc



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Angst, Cats, Living Together, M/M, Neil goes a lil Nathaniel for a sec, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Violence, Post-Canon, Trust, artistic!andrew, happy-ish ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-26 20:52:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10794537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kayxpc/pseuds/kayxpc





	Hidden

The real estate agent presented the wall with both hands like she was Vanna White. 'All' of their information was held in the clipboard she had at her hip. Her dress was form fitting beneath her baby-pink blazer and her blonde hair was cut at the chin and it swished every time she moved.

"I would definitely splash some color on the wall," she said conversationally. Andrew noticed that she somehow had gotten the idea that they liked her. Neil nodded stupidly anyway, listening to her suggestions for the apartment. They hadn't even agreed on this one, but Andrew knew this was it. He was tired of looking anyway; he wanted it to be over, wanted to settle in.

"What do you think?"

"About painting or the apartment?" Andrew deadpanned, hands shoved in the front pockets of his skinny jeans.

"Both," Neil replied, gaze flicking over him appraisingly. Andrew shrugged, ignoring his body's reaction.

"I don't care if you paint it."

"I'll give you a minute," the relator smiled knowingly, as if she knew anything at all, and stepped into the next room. Neil sauntered over to him, a stupid grin on his equally stupid face.

"You liked it right?"

"I hate it," Andrew corrected him.

Neil smiled wider, tugging Andrew's hands free and sliding their fingers together.

"You said that about me too."

"I stand by that statement."

Neil rolled his eyes, briefly looking around the bedroom that would be theirs. Looking back at Andrew, he leaned in a pressed a few innocent kisses along his jaw to his ear.

"What do you think?" He whispered, "wanna blow me in our new apartment?"

-

Apparently defecting into some old married couple, Neil had dragged him to Home Depot for paint colors.

"I really think we should go with the seafarer blue, not robins egg." Neil said, matter-o-factly.

"I don't care, Josten." Andrew said in a bored tone. All he wanted to do was finish this so they could unpack and start being lazy while the off-season still allowed it.

"Just help me really quick. I promised we'd stop by Dairy Queen on the way home." Neil slung an arm around him so that he could see the paints up close and personal.

"Have I ever told you how annoying you are?"

"Quite frequently," Neil replied. "Now look, I already have the shades for the rest of the apartment. I read in this article that blue rooms promote sleep more than any other color."

"Wow, that was in an Exy magazine?"

"Shut _up_. And pick."

Andrew pinched the thin skin over his ribcage to get him off. Neil jumped back, retracting his arm and rolling his eyes at him. Andrew picked seafarer blue just to shut him up, not because he liked it.

-

"Baby can you pass me that stick... thingy?"

"Stirrer," Andrew informed.

He handed him it so that he could mix the freshly opened can of blue. They were on opposite sides of the room, Andrew setting up a ladder and Neil cross-legged on the drop-cloth, prepping the paint. They already stuck on the painters tape and laid out brushes and trays. Once they poured the paint out they got started with broad strokes using rollers attached to longer handles to cover a majority of the walls. Andrew showed Neil how to make even lines and not put too much or too little paint. Other than that it was silent, minus the cats scratching at the door every five minutes.

The sun was sinking lower and lower as they gradually covered the walls. Neil found himself on the ground again, huddled in a corner to paint carefully above the baseboards. Andrew was on the ladder, painting the trim and never getting a spot on the ceiling. The window beside him on the far wall of their bedroom overlooked a park that was casting cool tones into the room. Neil found himself looking at Andrew more than painting. If not for the usual reasons, for his hands. They were - well they were perfect - but they were so _steady_. He hadn't gotten a single speck of blue on the ceiling and very little on himself while Neil was covered in it like he and the paintbrush had fought; and the paintbrush definitely won. Andrew was silent, his fingers wrapped familiarly around the base of a smaller paintbrush, edging the remaining blank spaces full of color.

"I didn't know you could paint," he said, breaking the silence after hours. He wasn't even facing the wall anymore, openly watching his boyfriend.

"I can't," Andrew replied.

Neil begged to differ. It was just four walls, one color, but he was still good. He looked like he knew what he was doing. He doesn't argue though, just keeps observing as Andrew makes his way across the wall. After almost thirty minutes, Andrew exhales loud enough for Neil to hear.

"I used to."

"When?" Neil asked slowly. He could see the tension in Andrew's shoulders, but not his expression.

"When I was a kid," he replied finally. The words felt strange in the air. It was hard to imagine the Andrew as a child. Neil would bet it isn't easy for him either.

He weighed the possibility of Andrew getting a hold of decent art supplies in any of his numerous foster homes or public schools. Not likely at all; the best bet was Cass. He knew better than to ask, even if the question of why Andrew gave it up burned the tip of his tongue. After what felt like an eternity, Andrew sighed again.

"Cass saw me looking at paintbrushes in the store once. The next day I got back from school and there was a whole set of materials on my bed. Paint, brushes, mediums."

"You were good." Neil commented, not really a question. Something about Andrew just then, the way he held the brush like he held Neil's hand. Like it was the most familiar thing in the world, like he knew every curve and how to use them all to his advantage.

"Yeah, I was."

  
Andrew hadn't let anything on about why he didn't paint anymore. Neil's stomach was wringing itself into knots at the thought of Andrew in that house. He couldn't imagine how Andrew could talk about it still, could trust him like this.

"One day..." he stopped, taking the brush from the wall and holding it out in front of him to examine. Then he swallowed. Neil has learned that what he needs is time. He doesn't need Neil's _you don't have to tell me's_. Andrew doesn't give anything he isn't ready to give. Neil never takes what isn't ready to be taken.

"I was in my room, painting. Drake came in."

Neil felt like he was going to puke. He can't stop the memories of that horrible day at the Hemmick's from flooding his mind. He clears his throat to shut out the ringing of Andrew's maniac laugh in his ears. Neither of them are painting any more, but Andrew was still facing the wall as he sat on top of the ladder.

"I hadn't been at Cass's long but it had already happened. He got angry, the way he always did. Got pissed off that I was painting instead of waiting for him."

Neil had to stop his hands from fidgeting.

"So he broke my hand in six places," Andrew added after a moment.

Neil's stomach twisted inside out. His chest was tight, devoid of air. In that moment he felt so much _hatred_ , it felt stronger than hate towards Nathan and his people, towards the Moriyamas. This was _Andrew_  and seeing another awful piece of the puzzle fit into his background made him tremble with the need to cut something.

He still couldn't fathom what happened to Andrew throughout his life. To this _boy_ , who has been through the worst things imaginable, but had remained selfless. Who could still take care of Neil and be capable of so much _love_ , even if he couldn't say the words. He is, not for the first time and certainly not the last, overwhelmed by Andrew's strength.

"Andrew—"

Andrew shook his head. He held his right hand out briefly. "Ever wonder what these scars are from?"

He's referencing the tiny white marks on the back of his palm. Neil just assumed they were from a fight or from Andrew himself.

"I've never seen you have a problem with your hand."

Andrew shook his head again. Neil's throat tightened at the possibility of another horror.

"Cass could afford the best," his mouth twisted where Neil couldn't see it. "And when her precious AJ got hurt, falling down the stairs - she hired the best orthopedic surgeon in the country."

Neil closed his eyes, cold sweat covering his skin. He didn't inhale until he realized he was shaking with the effort to cope without oxygen. He forced in a breath that made Andrew glance back at him.

"Calm down."

"I wish it was me instead of Aaron,"  _who_ _killed Drake._

"No."

"I'm glad he's dead."

"Me too," Andrew agreed, head tilted towards the ceiling. Neil made himself take another breath, his pulse still racing. He knew there was nothing to say, knew Andrew didn't want or need him to say anything, so after a few minutes he continued painting.

After nearly another hour they both decided to finish in the morning. Painting was tedious after an entire days worth and they were both exhausted. Neil washed out the paintbrushes while Andrew worked on heating up leftover tai. They ate in a comfortable silence with the cats already curling around their feet in an effort to coax their way into the bed. Andrew blatantly ignored Sir as he flicked his fluffy tail at his ankle.

After they took showers they both pulled on sweatpants and Andrew his armbands - Neil understood why tonight. Andrew scooped Sir up from where he was purring furiously and ignored Neil's eyes pointedly. It was the first time in weeks he'd let Sir in bed because Neil had commented on how cute Andrew looked cuddled up with their cats. Neil bit back a smile and shut the open underwear drawer. He approached their bed to which Andrew was cross legged on, surrounded by plush white pillows and had a lap full of cat. Sir looked very pleased with himself - nuzzling upwards into Andrew's gentle hand.

"This okay?" He asked softly, eyes tracing from Andrew's hand to his eyes.

"It's your bed," Andrew said without looking away from the cat.

"It's _ours_ ," Neil corrected patiently. Andrew narrowed his eyes at him slightly. Sir purred angrily at the lack of attention he was receiving.

"Yes or no? Do you want me here?" Neil asked, still standing next to his side of the bed.

"Yes," Andrew said, something flickering in his expression. "I want you here."

So Neil climbed underneath the covers, reaching over to pat Sir's head once. He curled onto his side facing Andrew, sighing contently.

"Thank you," he murmured. His eyes shut easily, feeling nothing but safe next to Andrew.

"Shut the fuck up." Andrew said, and jostled his legs until Sir took the hint to get lost. He strode off with his head held high, indignant as ever, to the foot of the bed.

"Hey," Andrew said, quieter. Neil opened his eyes to look up at him.

"Yes or no?"

"Yes," Neil exhaled.

"Turn around," Andrew requested, and when Neil obliged he laid down behind him. Their bodies lined up, exchanging heat and comfort. Andrew wrapped one arm around his chest and laced their hands together as Neil settled against him.

"Is this okay?" Andrew asked, breath close to Neil's neck.

"Mhmm," Neil hummed, giving Andrew's hand a small squeeze of reassurance before slipping into unconsciousness. Something in Andrew settled at that. The feel of Neil's pliant body protected by his, of Neil's hand holding him like he is the only thing that matters.

  
Yes, this was okay.

 


End file.
